If you are that parent, all you need to do is stay in bed and complain
While my brother-in-law Darragh took off for a honeymoon with his new wife Emilie, we joined my in-laws in taking the happy couple’s two-year-old daughter Lucy to Wexford. Lucy is delightful, and our own two-year-old adores her, in that way that toddlers adore and resent all their best friends with equal ferocity. They spent the first two days of our trip fighting over their favoured objects, laughing constantly as they ran between rooms, and generally cavorting like naughty spaniels. It was all quite idyllic, until I developed a severe lurgy on Day 3.
I woke to find that my joints ached and my head pounded. My throat, now cracked and crispy, was soon issuing dignified groans to my wife, demanding Lemsip and ibuprofen, a diet on which I was to subsist, from bed, for the next 24 hours.